


Regina

by saltandbyrne



Category: Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017)
Genre: Light Bondage, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: Elizabeth is a name for a queen.
Relationships: Olive Byrne/Elizabeth Marston/William Marston
Comments: 17
Kudos: 85
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Regina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fresne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/gifts).



_ Dominance _

Elizabeth Marston is a slap to the face.

Olive’s cheeks smart when she looks at her. Elizabeth’s eyes are always moving, flitting from place to place, landing on Olive just to dance off across the room, as though Olive and the crowded surface of Dr. Marston’s desk are equally worthy of her attention. 

They’re both Dr. Marston, of course. Olive knows it’s the rotten aegis of sexism that makes it easier for her to think of Mrs. Dr. Marston as “Elizabeth,” while she rebels at the thought of Mr. Dr. Marston as “William”, or even worse, “Bill.” And yet, even that mantle of a title doesn’t change which Dr. Marston makes her hands clammy and her knees feel at odds with the rest of her legs.

Olive eschews the false modesty of her sorority sisters. She’s no beauty queen, but she gets plenty of attention from the bread-box boys on the campus quad, who sink their doughy fingers into her arm and offer bad puns about her golden hair. Olive’s is the beauty of a new thing, pale and pretty, milk and honey, cookies and cream. Things that schoolboys steal and hoard, things they tire of when age drives them all sour.

Elizabeth is a sharp slash through the rarely-hewn firmament of Radcliffe. Neat and dark, a dagger of a woman if Olive’s ever seen one. There’s a sweet distraction in her dress, as though elegance is something she grabs when she rolls out of bed along with a sip of water and a cigarette, the waves of her hair a natural occurrence unworthy of undue attention. Olive wrestles her silk-spun hair into curls and loses the battle more often than she wins. 

When Elizabeth is deep in thought or deep in conversation with Dr. Marston –  _ William _ – Olive studies the planes of her face, the sharp slope of her cheekbone, the proud jut of her chin, the purse of her lips. If William’s face is an open book, then Elizabeth is a key-locked tome, giving nothing away to the casual observer. Olive cherishes the smallest smile to escape from her lips, hoards the approving up-tick of an eyebrow, loses sleep over the disappointed knit of her forehead. 

Olive is a hard worker. She takes pride in her work, in the neat order she wills into the chaotic undertow of the Drs. Marston. William is easy with his praise, quick to offer an off-hand compliment on her diligent filing, generous with his eyes and a hand on her shoulder when she skirts past him. Elizabeth regards her, and it’s like being cut in half, seared in place with only a look as she takes a stack of research from Olive’s trembling hands and flicks through it. “Thank you, Olive, well done.”

Olive bows her head, smiling. Elizabeth is a name for a queen.

_ Inducement _

Olive has been kissed before. Elizabeth isn’t even the first woman she’s kissed. 

Still, in her heart of hearts, Olive will call this her first kiss. She runs but it’s Elizabeth who makes her chase after it, pulling away until Olive whines. It’s Elizabeth who can hurt her, and only Elizabeth who can give her what she needs.

Olive has scarcely imagined their bodies together, the angles that three people can make of one another. William is a stalwart plank for them to balance on, wide-eyed and wondering at every touch. Elizabeth is liquid, sharp and smooth all at once, as incisive with her body as she is with her mind. She cuts to the quick of Olive, slices her into jagged pieces that William kisses back together.

It’s dizzying, to close her eyes and wonder whose hands are roving under her skirt, whose mouth is memorizing the arch of her neck. They meld into one person, a chimera under the stage lights. 

William likes her in corsets and garters, structured things that bind her as tightly as she binds his hands. It’s Elizabeth who likes to press their naked bodies together, who rolls around under the sheets and smiles at Olive in the early morning sunlight of their bedroom. It’s William who asks her to stay, but it’s Elizabeth who keeps a roof over her head and holds her hand when they go to t he movies.

_ Submission _

_ Her greatest weapon is the lasso of truth. _

William, on his back with his hands above his head, tries to lie.

“I can’t tell,” he says, lips parted as Elizabeth hovers over him. His hands twist against the ropes threaded through their bedposts, finding security. Olive has a good hand for knots.

“Liar,” Elizabeth says, her face lit up with amusement as she winks at Olive. It’s so rare to see her like this, conspiratorial and lost in their games. She tuts and flicks her fingers over William’s smug lips, pulling back as he chases blindly after them. The scarf around his eyes lets in only the scarcest light. 

“Olive, how can he possibly not tell the difference between your lips and mine?” 

A corpse would know Elizabeth’s kiss. She sears herself against Olive’s mouth like a brand, burning hot, laughing at William’s plaintive noise. 

“We’ll just have to content ourselves with one another,” Olive says.

And she could be content, just her and Elizabeth, if there were any version of the world that would tolerate them. She loves William, loves the reflection of herself she sees in his eyes, loves the fire inside him and the gentle tide of his fatherhood. But William would not be himself without Elizabeth, while Olive cannot say whether the converse is true.

“One more chance,” William begs, the muscles of his neck straining as he raises his head. 

Elizabeth smiles at them, benign, radiant, merciful. She kisses Olive and twines their hands together, runs them up the firm expanse of William’s chest. Elizabeth has given her this, something stronger than an invisible jet beneath her. Olive straddles William’s waist and kisses him, Elizabeth’s hands a crown in her hair.

_ Compliance _

When it is late, and Olive is alone while Elizabeth takes her turn tending to William as he coughs and coughs, Olive will wonder what could have happened in those years they lost. Her banishment, she secretly calls it. Stricken from the island and forced back to the mortal world.

Olive has a new stove, now. She makes soup for William, rich broths that he can swallow when he finds a moment’s peace. “Just like Grandma made,” William jokes, as if Olive had studied recipes at her grandmother’s elbow instead of carefully teaching herself how to feed seven people from the pages of Family Circle. Olive has built her own family, now, willed it from the very marrow to the mismatched curls of their children around the dinner table. 

“I’m happy,” William says, his voice a reedy echo of the man she fell in love with. 

“Bill,” Elizabeth says, leaning over from her sentry-post next to William’s sick-bed. Olive is going to burn that chair, she’s so sick of seeing Elizabeth sinking into it like she’s dying on William’s behalf. 

“You have each other,” he says, and the noise Elizabeth makes is so foreign Olive looks around for one of the children before she realizes that Elizabeth is weeping. She takes one shuddering breath before she rushes out of the room, leaving Olive perched next to William.

“Will you kiss her? For me?” William says, his hot, papery hand threading into hers. Olive holds it, and yes, she will, now and forever, until the day she dies. 

“You are the beating heart of this family, Olive.” William squeezes her hand, and Olive swallows down the tears that well in her eyes. There will be time for her tears later. She nods and kisses his hand, a chaste press of her lips that she’s given the children countless times. William has made her so many things -- heroine, mother, lover, friend. And even if it’s a secret she must keep, a shrouded island cloistered from the realm of man, he has made her a wife.

Olive stands and goes to find Elizabeth.


End file.
